


81 Minutes

by vivilove



Series: Jonsa Summer Challenge 17 [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fear of Flying, Jonsa Summer Challenge, Mile High Club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 13:32:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11464611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove
Summary: Jon Snow and his wife are off on a trip to Paris to celebrate their anniversary.  Unfortunately, Jon is afraid of flying but his wife has a suggestion to take his mind off his fear.





	81 Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1 of Jonsa Summer Challenge on Tumblr. Prompt-Travel
> 
> A little smuffy drabble :)

“After all those trips to New York last year, you’re not still afraid of flying, are you?” Sansa asked after fastening her seatbelt.

“Me? Afraid? What nonsense,” Jon answered as his fingers dug into the armrest of his seat and he started counting down from a hundred…in French.

He spoke four languages besides his native English. Which was useful being as he worked as a translator for a living. Practice makes perfect though so he often thought in other languages, especially when he wished to take his mind off something. His first French instructor had said he had a nimble tongue. Sansa said that, too…for other reasons.

_Cent, quatre-vingt-dix-neuf, quatre-vingt-dix-huit…_

Sansa grinned and kissed his cheek. His wife was excited for this holiday. It was their fifth wedding anniversary and Jon had happily agreed to take her on this little European tour. Three days in Paris then off to Nice for three more before they’d take a train to Zurich for a couple of days and then another train to Neuschwanstein Castle in Schwangau, Germany before returning to their current home in the UK.

But first, Jon Snow had to survive the bloody flight to Paris. And, he hated flying.

 _Breathe in, breathe out. Don’t die. In Spanish now…aspirar, exhalar. No mueras_.

The jet engines began to roar to life and Jon said a silent prayer…in German this time.

_Vater unsel im Himmel…_

The prayer said, he decided to try and nod off.

_Just fall asleep. Fall asleep and the flight will be over before you know it. It’s only 80 minutes from London to Paris. 81 minutes according to the flight tracker. Nothing like that eight-hour nightmare to fly into LaGuardia._

“Jon?”

“Hmm?” he muttered, keeping his eyes tightly shut. Sansa’s nudge had startled him.

“The air hostess is asking if you want a beverage, darling.”

“Oh! Just some water please.”

 _Please, just let me sleep. I knew I should’ve taken an antihistamine before we left home_.

“Jon?” Sansa breathed in his ear. It tickled…and made him smile.

“Yes, love?”

“Have you ever thought about joining the mile-high club?” his wife purred softly.

Somewhere that phrase vaguely rang a bell in Jon’s fear-addled mind.

“Ummm…wait…” His eyes flew open and his brows shot up as his libido took over for his terror. “Are you suggesting we…do that?” he asked with a grin spreading across his face.

“Well…I know you hate flying and no matter how much you protest, you’re clearly terrified at present. I thought it might help us pass the time and take your mind off things.”

“So, sex is now a way to ‘pass the time,’ Mrs. Snow?"

“I didn’t mean it like that, you idiot.”

Jon sat up straighter in his seat and looked up and down the aisle.

“What if we get caught?” he whispered next.

“What are they going to do? Turn the plane around mid-flight? Give us parachutes and make us jump?”

 _Maybe…and then I’ll have to fly all the way back again_. “I…uh…”

“I’ll head to the loo first. You follow in a minute,” Sansa said decidedly.

She was on her feet before Jon could think of anything else to say.

Jon sat in his seat feeling like petrified wood. Petrified because you know that feeling you get when you know you need to move but you’re afraid to move? And wood because…well, Sansa.

 _Get up. Get up. Don’t leave her waiting there for you, for Christ’s sake_.

Jon stood just as the plane hit a bit of turbulence. He stumbled and emitted a very unmanly yelp. The pilot came on over the intercom to apologize for the unexpected bump with a chuckle. _Cocky f_ _ucker_.

He inched down the aisle towards the restroom, every step a new wave of terror. He’d been afraid in his seat but this was far worse. He reached the back of the aisle at last. Both toilets were occupied.

 _Shit! Which one is she in? I don’t want to knock like an ass when someone is in there_ …

His dilemma was solved when one door cracked open and a familiar hand reached out to grab him by the collar and yank him in the water closet.

Sansa giggled and kissed his neck, making Jon forget all about why this was completely insane and possibly going to lead to much embarrassment. Her mouth found his and then he forgot all about his fear of flying as well.

The space was cramped but where there’s a will, there’s a way. Sansa’s skirt was easily rucked up to her hips. Her lacy knickers were snatched and shoved in his pocket, a prize to savor later, and his trousers were unbuckled, unbuttoned and unzipped in record time.

“I fucking adore you, my wife,” he groaned into her hair as he entered her, delighting in the sensation of being held and encased by Sansa.

“I adore you, too,” she whispered in his ear. But then her voice dropped into a husky, commanding tone. “Now, fuck me, Jon. The flight’s not a long one and I want to feel your cum sliding down my thighs when I walk back to our seats.”

Oh, God…that did it.  Anytime his sweet little lady wife spoke like that and in that tone, he was done for in no time.

Shortly thereafter, the hostess standing outside the door with pursed lips and crossed arms only received a cheeky smile from Sansa and a dazed and goofy grin from Jon before they hustled back to their seats with Jon playfully grabbing at his wife’s ass until she was finally forced to smack his hand away.

And thirty minutes later, when the plane touched down at Charles de Gaulle, Jon was still smiling and no longer afraid.

Alright, perhaps he was still clinging to his armrests during the landing. But that didn’t mean he could not wait to continue his travels with Sansa, wherever they may go…and even if it involved flying.


End file.
